Make me forget
by MSCSIFANGSR
Summary: GSR to the max, baby. YTDAWonFB challenge fic.


**TTITLE:** MAKE ME FORGET  
**AUTHOR:** MSCSIFANGSR aka Chauncey10  
**RATING:** Mature  
**SUMMARY:** GSR to the max, baby.  
**DISCLAIMER:** I do own CSI. Seasons 1-11 on DVD, all CSI books, and even the CSI Senses game with the cute little miniature CSI figurines, a CSI key chain and maybe a few other odds and ends. But the legal rights to CSI, unfortunately, no.  
**SPOILERS:** I am spoiler free for the premiere and all I know is the Season 12 finale. This is my imagination given the challenge and bears no resemblance to the actual premiere or events to be portrayed in that episode.  
**A/N:** Written for the first YTDAWonFB Fic Challenge. Required elements: the dialogue phrase: 'an oasis in the middle of a wasteland', bruises, carpe diem, dripping wet hair, hallucination.  
**BETA:** The wonderful wordsmith known as Jellybeanchi_chi  
**THANKS:** To Devon for the prompts and the idea for challenge.

* * *

The humidity in the small enclosure seeped into every pore of the tall brunette's naked body. Steam condensed on the mirror and with her left hand, the gold that adorned her third finger, glinted in the harsh fluorescent lighting. She quickly smeared the moisture until she was able to see her own reflection.

The first thing she saw was her **dripping wet hair **with rivets of water streaming down her face; the second were the red and purple **bruises** and scratches on her neck and shoulder. She grimaced then closed her eyes and took a long, deep, cleansing breath. Then another. And another until the memories that were fighting to come to the surface were relegated to somewhere deeper in her conscious.

As she reached for her towel, another hand grabbed for it. She recognized his hand immediately: the slightly short and stubby fingers she had memorized from the moment she saw him standing impatiently before a small crowd of crime scene investigators. She'd been so young then, as had he. The timing was all wrong then, she knew that now.

Those same fingers curled around the white terry cloth that hung loosely on the round handle. She watched as if magically the towel slipped off the ring by itself. She lost sight of him for a moment, her heart nearly stopped in fear that he was merely an **hallucination** conjured by the stress of the past few days.

When she felt the pressure of his presence against her back, their auras overlapped and mingled together effortlessly, Sara Sidle-Grissom breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"I'm so glad you're home," she whispered as she felt the soft strokes of the terry cloth against her wet back. Sara closed her eyes, her body basked in the intimacy of the moment. His touch was so soothing, therapeutic in ways no one else had ever been or would be again.

She turned to face him, both flirtatiously smirked at each other before he returned to the process of drying her recently showered body. "But how did you know I needed you tonight?"

"I got a text from Al when all this mess started. Said the team was in trouble. I hopped a plane and got here as fast as I could." He glanced down to the four fingerprint shaped bruises on her shoulder and the deep angry thumb mark against her throat. He reverently kissed the offending marks on her skin. Then he stared at her as if she would disappear into a fine mist of vapor should he let her go.

She could see the anger welling up in his eyes as the pupils constricted as his gaze lingered on the injured area. "Tell me how you got these," he implored.

"No, Gil."

"Sara, you were scratched, too. Did someone process you? Maybe DNA can match any epithelials..."

She pulled away from Grissom, turned and faced the mirror again. Sara stared at their shared reflection in the mirror, condensation still lingering on the outer edges. His blue eyes bore into hers so she lowered her eyes to deflect his concern. "Yes, Greg swabbed me."

Grissom took a moment, grateful the evidence from her attack by the former undersheriff had been collected. Then concern vanished and anger returned quickly, "That bastard...he hurt you. He could have killed you..."

"Now he's dead. Gil, I'm fine. These are injuries are minor and will heal." She turned to face him again. "Look, it's over. I don't want to think about it anymore. Right now, you are **an oasis in the middle of a wasteland,** and I'm parched, famished, and weak. Kiss me; love me; make me forget."

Grissom squinted his eyes, ran his left hand, with a matching band of gold, through his beard and without another word, moved closer to his wife. His hands encompassed her face then their lips touched lightly at first, soon a passion born of too many long nights apart flamed.

They kissed, not perfect kisses of new found love, but wet, slobbery kisses of unbound desire and need. The couple's bodies entwined together; her naked body in sharp contrast to his fully clothed one. Touches were both loving and demanding; yielding and unyielding. They kissed long, hard until both felt completely blanketed by the other.

Her naked body molded like clay under his roaming hands, eliciting soft moans of pleasure from the woman he loved more than life itself.

Soon their touches became outright gropes. Sara's agile fingers slipped his zipper downward, she curled and pried her way into his pants. She smiled into his kiss as she rediscovered her husband's propensity not to wear undergarments. Her grip latched onto his erection and pulled it out of his pants.

He looked down between their bodies and committed the sight to his long term memory: His was still dressed with his penis proudly sticking out from his pants as Sara's hand moved the foreskin back and forth and Sara's body was glistened with a light sweat, her nipples hard and pebbled, his own hand wedged between her legs. It was probably the most erotic thing he'd ever seen his life.

Her tongue caressed his ear, curving downward until she lightly nibbled on the lobe, her teeth restrained but still cutting a bit into the soft flesh. She blew a quick warm breath into his ear and his penis bobbled and throbbed in her hand. She whispered the phase "**Carpe Diem**" inelegantly and he reacted on instinct.

From the utterance of the ancient Latin words until he hoisted her onto the cabinet while simultaneously sinking deep within her warmth, nanoseconds passed.

He slammed himself into her; long, athletic legs captured him, wrapping around his midsection, pulling him closer. Grissom felt her muscles begin to clinch against him and almost lost control, but he knew he needed to prolong their pleasure for as long as possible for her.

The mirror completely fogged, again; this time from their combined breaths as they moved and battled for an active release in the already hot and steamy bathroom. Their shadows played on the walls in harmony until both the dark and the light shattered into a million pieces of pure brilliance.

Soon thereafter, Sara slid off the counter into her husband's loving arms, her legs unstable for the briefest of moments. They clung together for a very long time before either spoke.

"Darling, you need to be bedded properly." Grissom's voice was like warm, fresh from the hive, honey. If Sara hadn't just had one of the best orgasms of her life, then she was sure the tone of his voice would have thrown her over the edge again. After shocks reverberated throughout her body as he brushed his lips against her neck very near the bruised and inflamed skin.

Sara looked down at his still clothed body that sported stains from their combined union on the front of his trousers. "If you're up for it, again, I'll take you up on that offer."

* * *

**The End**

* * *

Reviews are always appreciated.


End file.
